Letting Go
by justagirl8225
Summary: Maybe to truly love him, she had to let go.


**Disclaimer and Notes: **I don't own a thing mentioned. And I'm aware there's no actual names named, I want it that way. This is a stand alone piece. I think that's it.

She wasn't exactly sure why she hadn't thrown this stuff away or why she hadn't burned the pictures to a crisp like she'd originally intended … and maybe she just didn't want to part with it or maybe it still meant something to her, a part of her past that she couldn't change … and wouldn't change even if she had the opportunity to do so.

She wasn't sure if she had changed or if he had changed or if it even mattered now … it was obvious that someone had changed but now wasn't the time to really get into miniscule details like that; maybe then it would have made a difference but now, well it didn't really matter.

They'd both said some things that they didn't mean, or at least she hadn't meant them … but he'd taken it to heart and returned her verbal barrage tenfold.

And then before she knew it, he was walking away from her and it was too late to apologise or laugh and say she was only joking.

Of course, if he had stopped and waited for her to speak, she isn't sure if she would have actually apologised and tried to fix things or if she would have made it worse.

It had been for his own good, after all, and that was what she continued to tell herself to this day.

Of course, she was wrong … oh so very wrong, but it had taken her until now to realise that.

She was quite certain that her feelings hadn't changed too much, she still felt the same for him … and she wanted to believe that he still felt the same for her. But she wasn't about to pick up the phone and ask him, not when all this time had passed since they'd last seen the other.

She still thought about him of course and often wondered if she ever crossed his mind … but she wasn't about to get in her car so she could go see him; that could just set herself up for further disappointment … or it could lead to something she would regret.

The last time they'd seen each other and truly enjoyed the others company … it seemed like ages ago now, but in actuality only a year had passed.

Only a year since she'd told him that she couldn't stand the sight of him or the person that she was becoming.

Only a year since the biggest lie in her life had spilled out of her traitorous mouth.

Only a year since she had been an idiot and said something so cruel and spiteful enough to make him cry.

Only a year had passed and yet sometimes it seemed like only yesterday, her heart still aching, her pillow still wet with tears from where she would cry herself to sleep.

Only a year had passed since the last time she had told him she loved him and he had told her the same … only then she had meant it and she had believed him.

Now, if he were to tell her he still loved her she would think it to be nothing but a joke … now, if she were to tell him that she still loved him, he would probably hang up the phone from the moment he realised it was her.

So maybe some things were just better left unsaid … he didn't need to know that she still loved him, he didn't need to know just how sorry she was and he didn't need to know just how much she missed him and needed him.

She sighed, sweeping a few strands of hair out of her face, tucking them behind her ear like he had always done … that part of her was in the past, that relationship was in the past and maybe it was better left in the past. And that was why, instead of burning the pictures to a crisp or ripping up the ticket stubs she had carefully saved; she carefully put them all back in the box where they belonged and where they would stay.

She still believed that he was better off without her anyway.

And maybe he was and maybe he wasn't … she wasn't about to find out, better left to what she wanted to think for him as reality usually tended to be too much of a disappointment.

That was what she would continue to tell herself as she put the box back on the top shelf of her closet, putting a few more objects in front of it in hopes that she would forget it's presence.

It had taken her a year to remember it was there to begin with, so maybe in another year, she'd forget about that box all together.

It wasn't like she was trying to forget about him because she knew she couldn't completely forget about him … and it wasn't like she was trying to forget about what they had, because she couldn't forget about what they had … even if she wanted to forget, she couldn't.

In spite of what they'd said to each other, she would never be able to completely forget about him.

Before they'd been lovers they had been friends and that friendship, that basis to their relationship had woven itself into the fabric of her existence and she could not and would not part with it …

So that way, even if they weren't together, they would always be together.

Which she sometimes resented that fact, that she couldn't forget him … and hoped that a similar fate plagued him; wherever he was … or whomever he was with.

She didn't want him to be alone and she certainly didn't want him pining away over her, not that she would ever imagine that he would do such a ridiculous thing like that.

He wasn't that sort of person … and neither was she really, which was why they worked.

And they had worked in every sense of the word, they were the perfect compliment to the other … she'd go as far as to use a cliché and say they'd fit each other like she was a glove to his hand. Or something like that, one of those ridiculous notions … sword to sheath, hand to glove.

But that didn't mean that she wanted him back or that she wanted him to take her back.

She wanted him to move on, she hoped he had moved on … but if he had, and she hoped he did, she didn't want to hear about it and she hoped that he would have enough class to not flaunt it to her.

A smirk creased at the corners of her mouth as she wondered if he would remember that ridiculous promise they'd made to each other before that graceful transition from friends to lovers…

"_So, when this ends," she'd said so casually, "will you promise me something?"_

"_Anything," he'd told her seriously, "just name it."_

"_Promise me that you won't flaunt your new relationship in my face, I don't want to see you with the better woman … the one that I was just a try-out for."_

_His pause for silence was the longest that she could ever recall, but eventually he replied. "I promise."_

They weren't exactly vengeful or vindictive people, but she knew that he could be that way sometimes and so could she … but to each other, they'd never shown that particular side.

It was as if they'd been immune to certain things about the other … either that or they'd just grown so used to the harsher and darker aspects and accepted them without question. Or they'd just chosen to ignore them.

Well there was no real point in dwelling on all of that now … what was done was done.

And even if she wanted to pick up the phone and call him just to see how he was doing … even if she wanted to get in her car and go see him, just to see him … she wouldn't.

She'd come to terms with herself that she still loved him and that, as ridiculous and as sentimental as it sounded, a part of her would always love him.

But that didn't mean that she had to do something stupid and embarrassing like calling him and having a new girlfriend pick up the phone … or getting in her car to go see him only to have the door slammed shut in her face.

She would still love him but she would love him on her own terms.

Maybe part of loving is learning to let go.


End file.
